Possessionem Regis
by Simone Landon
Summary: It is not enough to conquer; one must know how to seduce. And the ones that are the likeliest to succumb are the ones that are alone. Bakura-Ryou.
1. Possessionem Regis

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Possessionem regis: Latin for "the king's property." This is also one of the definitions of "yadonushi," Yami no Bakura's name for Ryou Bakura, the other two being something to the effect of "landlord" and "host (to a parasite)."

This is the result of wondering "What's Bakura doing during the DOOM and Grand Prix arcs?"  
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It started slowly.

Initially, Bakura only appeared in his peripheral vision.  It made Ryou jerk and glance to the side strangely several times, but the thief--apparently not playing mind games with him for once--only stayed there, staring at him until Ryou lowered his gaze and turned back to whatever he was doing.  It was weird at first, always seeing that faint haze at the corner of his sight, and sometimes Ryou rubbed his eyes reflexively and wound up looking like he wasn't sleeping enough, but he adjusted.  And once he adjusted, he tried to ignore it.

Ignoring it was better than looking at him.  Ryou wasn't an idiot.  He knew what the expression in the thief's eyes had been.

He'd seen that expression plenty of times in his life--people found him attractive, and he knew it, though it made him uncomfortable when they went from looking to telling him.  He'd turned down a dozen offers for dates from girls, one or two vague comments about coffee from guys, and once a woman who'd offered him a pretty nice price to be her escort for the evening.  It was always the same general excuses: he wasn't like that, they didn't have much in common, he was too busy with studying--though with the woman he remembered he'd just kind of blinked until she apologized and walked off--because he couldn't flat out say that he wasn't interested.  That would just lead to endless questions and one or two boring, dragged-out dates that he didn't want to go through.  Although lately, he'd been turning people down because he didn't care to see anyone else in the hospital with a coma.

Still, he knew the look.  He'd seen it in girls' eyes, glancing shyly or giggly across the room at him, in guys' eyes with the way they'd look without actually looking while everyone had to change for gym.  It was always half-lidded, too, like it was supposed to be a secret.  He'd never understood that.  It wasn't a secret--he knew.  He just didn't react.

Bakura's eyes had been half-lidded, too.  The thief had been studying him, looking at him like Ryou was a puzzle to be figured out, which was different from the way most people looked at him, true; but the want was still there.

So he ignored it the way he had with everyone else.

It wasn't like there was anything to say.

Things stayed like that for a while, and soon it just became a part of normal life.  After all, he **was**  friends with Yuugi Mutou.  It took a lot for something to not be normal.  
  
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It was about a week and a half later that Bakura first touched him.

He'd been microwaving dinner, because he was feeling too lazy to cook anything and he didn't want to go out to buy a meal.  Yuugi and everyone were still on their trip to America, and there wasn't anybody else in Domino that he knew well enough to hang out with outside of school, so he'd just come home that afternoon and watched television for most of the day, putting off his homework until later that night.  He'd been standing in the kitchen, blankly watching the beef bowl rotate and thinking something vague about radiation and how he really should move to the side, when the thief slid his arms around his waist.

Ryou froze instinctively.  He stared wide-eyed at the microwave for several seconds, until he managed to tilt his head enough to look down.  He could feel a faint weight against his back and legs, and he could see Bakura's arms wrapped around his torso, but they were transparent.  He could see his shoes through the thief's hands.

Wrapped wasn't the right word, though.  Bakura wasn't **holding**  him; his arms were resting lightly against Ryou's sides and his hands were folded casually in front of the teenager's stomach.  It was the sort of loose, careless grip that you would use on an object that belonged to you completely.

Ryou knew then what was happening, and he clenched his hands into fists.  He would have broken free and punched the thief, if he'd thought that there was a chance of hitting more than thin air.

But there wasn't, and he knew it, so Ryou just stood there, muscles tense and fists clenched.  The microwave finished cooking the bowl and beeped at him.  After three counts, it paused and began beeping once a minute.  Ryou counted them and didn't move.

Seven beeps later, Bakura let him go.  He remained still for a beep longer, but the thief stayed away.  Finally, Ryou walked to the microwave, set it to reheat his food for 20 more seconds, and stared resolutely at the numbers while they ticked down, ignoring the haze leaning against the counter in the corner of his eye.

But he adjusted to it.  After another week it didn't seem **so **weird, and it didn't really interfere with anything he did.  He wasn't sure how Bakura managed to sit behind him while he was working at his desk, but Ryou figured one of the advantages of being intangible was that you didn't really care if the back of a chair happened to be bisecting you.  For a while he would squirm away whenever Bakura rested his hands too low on his lap for him to be comfortable, but the thief just moved whenever he did, resting his chin on Ryou's shoulder as if he had nothing better to do than watch the teenager work out the degrees of angles for geometry class--_Maybe he doesn't_, Ryou thought absently to himself; after all, with Yuugi gone there wasn't anyone else for Bakura to plot against--so he adjusted to that as well.

What else was he supposed to do about it?

It wasn't like there was anyone to talk to.  
  
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He'd just gotten used to Bakura's tendency to drape himself over his back when he saw the shadow sitting on the counter in the bathroom.  The glass of the shower was opaque, so he couldn't tell who it was, but he lived alone in the apartment and it was absurd to pretend that it was anyone but the thief.  Ryou shivered once, despite the hot water, before turning his face away from the glass and staring at the tile as he finished washing up.

He stayed in the shower until the water turned cold, and then he stayed in even longer until he couldn't stand it anymore, but the blur on the counter remained.  Ryou shut off the water, rubbing his arms in the attempt to make the goosebumps go down.  It didn't work, but it was something to do.  He wrung his hair out a few times as well, but the shadow didn't move.

Finally Ryou decided that he just couldn't wait as long as Bakura could, and he told himself that all he had to do was open the door, take two steps forward, and wrench the towel off the counter.  It wasn't that big a deal.

He shoved the door open, took the two steps, grabbed the towel, and nearly slid on the linoleum, but he managed to get it wrapped around his waist without falling or looking at the smirking thief on the counter.  Once he had it tucked in firmly, Ryou picked up the second towel and began furiously drying his hair.  He didn't stop until his face finally quit feeling so hot.

He didn't want to look at Bakura, but he also wasn't crazy enough to put his back to him, so Ryou wound up just tilting himself away slightly as he dried off with the already soggy towel he'd used on his hair.  He crouched down to dry his legs instead of bending over like usual.

Ryou managed to pull on his boxers underneath the towel, even though he was still damp, and after that he tossed both the towels over the shower stall and yanked on his t-shirt.  He tensed up even more when he had to walk past Bakura to get out the door, but the thief just watched him go.

Ryou reached out automatically to turn off the light, and then hesitated.  He didn't know what would happen if he turned it off while Bakura was still in there, so he told himself that electricity didn't matter that much and left it burning while he walked rapidly to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.  He was more grateful than he wanted to admit that Bakura hadn't followed him.

After that, Ryou started leaving the towels hanging over the stall while he showered.  They got a little wet, but he felt less vulnerable.  Bakura never moved from the spot on the counter, either, so finally Ryou just incorporated this new thing, like every other thing, into his daily life.  He thought about how it was kind of like having a large, person-shaped, transparent bathroom fixture, and with that in mind he tried to ignore it and go through life as normally as usual.

He also tried sleeping with actual pajama bottoms instead of just boxers for a while, but the cuffs kept riding up whenever he turned around and it was too hot, so he quit--even though he was still self-conscious about having to walk past Bakura in just his underwear and a t-shirt.  He told himself that at least it wasn't summer, when it would be too hot for the shirt.

Ryou had quit a lot of things in his life recently.  It seemed like the less painful way to live.

It wasn't like he had anything to tell him to the contrary.  
  
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He had still been adjusting to the shower thing when he jolted awake one night from a nightmare and found the thief sitting in his desk chair, watching him.

Ryou stared at him for a brief second, but even in the darkness he wasn't willing to meet Bakura's eyes and see what he already knew was there.  He looked past the thief instead, vainly trying to make out the time on the clock on his desk.

After what felt like a long time to Ryou, he leaned back against the pillow and tried to untense a little.  A while later he closed his eyes, curled up tightly, turned over, and listened for the squeak that would tell him Bakura had moved out of the chair.

He never heard a sound, but it was still hours later before he fell asleep again.

The thief never followed him from the bathroom to the bedroom, but every other night or so Ryou would wake up and see Bakura sitting in the chair, staring at him intently.  He got used to it, even though it was unnerving to know there was someone watching him every night.  The only thing he did was change his sleeping pattern--he used to curl up on his side facing the door and his desk, but now he started sleeping facing the wall.

Ryou thought about writing to Yuugi and the others and asking when they would be back, but then he decided that things had already gone too far to either explain or have Yuugi pull him back out.  He'd just have to deal with it on his own.

It wasn't like that was a new thing.  
  
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He managed to deal with everything with a minimum of panic and fear, up to the day he went shopping.

He'd been going through the cans of soup and checking the dates, trying to figure out what he felt like having for dinner.  Bakura had been leaning against him like usual, chin resting on Ryou's shoulder.  It was almost at the point where the teenager didn't notice anymore.  He'd used to wonder what would happen if somebody psychic walked by and saw the spirit hanging onto him, but the people in grocery store were all refreshingly normal.

He gave up on the soup and decided he'd rather have ramen instead, but when he was putting the can back on the shelf it slipped out of his fingers.

_Crap_, he thought, trying to grab it before it got dented and he had to buy it anyway.

Bakura caught the can and held it up idly for the teenager to take.

Ryou stared wide-eyed at the soup, sitting patiently in Bakura's hand, for a long time.  It wasn't until he heard the sound of footsteps moving towards his aisle that he hastily grabbed it and tried to put it back on the shelf before anyone else saw.  His hands were shaking so badly that he wound up just shoving it into the other cans, and he gripped the edge of the shelf tightly and leaned his forehead against it.

_Go away.  Go away go away goawaygoawaygoawaygo **away**_, he said desperately.

Bakura didn't move for a moment, and Ryou was almost afraid that he was going to start hyperventilating.  But then the thief pulled back, trailing his hands lightly over Ryou's sides as he did, and Ryou shivered and clenched the shelf so tightly that it cut into his palms.

He didn't move until he felt a tap on his shoulder and the storekeeper asked worriedly if he was okay.  Ryou managed not to laugh hysterically.  He was proud of that.

After that day, small objects in the apartment started getting shifted around.  Ryou gave up on ignoring it.  Sometimes utensils or a pot would be sitting on the counter when he went into the kitchen to make dinner or breakfast, or other times his towels would be lying on the counter instead of hanging over the shower like he'd set them.  Ryou refused to take the hint with that and hung them back in place.  Once he found that the thief had packed his schoolcase for him, which Ryou guessed would have been a kinda nice gesture if only Bakura hadn't put in the wrong books and forgotten his chemistry homework.

He adjusted.  He always adjusted.  But it took nearly the rest of the month to do it.  Every day that he went to school he glanced at the empty desks of Yuugi, Honda, Jounouchi, Anzu, Otogi...even Kaiba was still gone, and he wouldn't have been any help at all, because he thought that everyone was lying about the whole Sennen Items and ancient spirits deal.  Ryou sat in the midst of all the normal people in his class and tried to pay attention to the teacher instead of Bakura, who was stretched out lazily in the seat that belonged to Yuugi and always watching him.

He'd get through it by himself.

It wasn't like there was anyone else to help.  
  
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He wasn't surprised when it finally happened.  It was almost a relief to get the waiting over with, in a way; but in another way it wasn't a relief at all.

He'd dried off in the shower like usual, barely paying attention to the shadow-figure of Bakura as he sat on the counter, watching him through the opaque glass.  Ryou wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it in, throwing the second one over the side of the shower.  Then he opened the door, eyes focused on the counter, and started to lift his clothes.

Bakura stood up.

Ryou froze.

A second later he jerked his head over to look at the thief, silently begging him to just stay still, to let him leave and to stop this now before it went too far for all of them.  The teenager noted absently that he couldn't see through Bakura to the mirror anymore.  Not that he really needed to.

Ignoring his look, Bakura walked partly around him, forcing Ryou to either turn or leave him at his back.  Ryou turned.

Bakura smirked at that.  The smirk faded a moment later, though, and he reached up to cup Ryou's face, rubbing his thumb over the teenager's cheek.  Ryou stayed still for a moment before suddenly jerking his head to the side.

"I don't want you," he said bitterly.  His hand clenched around the fabric he was still holding.  "I don't like you!  I hate you!  I **hate** you!"  He dropped the clothes and swung blindly, punching Bakura in the face.  The thief's head rocked to the side, but he kept his footing.  Ryou stumbled back and aimed a kick at his kneecap, but Bakura pushed himself forward and made it out of Ryou's range.  He grabbed the teenager's arms and swung him around, shoving Ryou against the wall next to the shower.  Ryou threw himself to the side, trying to break free, but Bakura only dug his fingers deeper into his skin, to the point where it hurt.  Finally he stilled, glaring away from Bakura to the floor.

"I hate you," he repeated, harsh and quiet.

"I know," Bakura said, the first time the thief had ever spoken out loud to him, and Ryou was thrown for a moment because it was so--different.  He'd heard Bakura's voice in his head before, several times, but it was like hearing words without sound.  This was something new.

Taking advantage of his surprise, the thief leaned in to press his lips against the teenager's, and Ryou tried to bite him.  Bakura pulled back a little at that and let go of one arm to grip Ryou's chin, not hard enough to leave marks, but enough to hold him in place.  He looked into the eyes that were now glaring at him rather than the linoleum and asked seriously, "So what?"

Bakura pressed his lips to Ryou's cheek, gentler than anything else he'd ever done in his life, still holding the teenager's chin so that he couldn't move his head.  He trailed a few more kisses across Ryou's cheek, before biting softly on the skin over his jawbone.

Ryou shivered.  "I don't want you."

Bakura lips brushed his earlobe as he kissed the tender skin behind his ear.  "You lie to yourself too much, landlord."  Another soft bite, and then Bakura pressed the tip of his tongue against the spot.  "You never wanted anyone else."

Ryou shivered again, harder.  Bakura let go of his chin, and the hand still around his arm, already loosened, dropped away as well.  Bakura brushed his fingers along Ryou's cheek before sliding his hand down the teenager's throat and cupping the back of his neck.

Ryou blinked when Bakura's other hand wrapped around his leg, and when he felt the thief lift it out and to the side, opening him, he shut his eyes tightly.  He squeezed them tighter when he felt the rough terrycloth of the towel slide down and heard it land with a damp 'thlump' on the floor.

Bakura pulled back slightly and watched the pained expression on his face with a small smirk.  "Why so shy, landlord?  I've seen it all before."

He didn't open his eyes.  He couldn't look at him.  _'It.'  It.  That's all you are, you know_, Ryou told himself.  _An it.  Another pretty object for the thief_.

The King of Thieves, Bakura replied.  Not just any bauble catches my eye.  He used his grip on Ryou's neck to tilt his head back, before kissing the hollow of his throat.  He pressed another kiss to his Adam's apple, then to the spot above that, and then gently bit the skin at the juncture of Ryou's throat and jaw.

Ryou shivered again before tilting his head back a little further, leaning it against the wall.  He could feel Bakura's lips curl up at the move, and he tried to stop shaking.

It wasn't like he'd lost.  You couldn't lose something that you never had a chance of winning in the first place.  He'd just ignored it until the thief decided to claim his prize.

When Bakura's hand tilted his head back down and he kissed his lips again, Ryou let him.  And when the thief leaned down, wrapped his arms around the back of his thighs and picked him up, Ryou let him, without bothering to tell himself that the reason he held on was because he didn't want to fall.  And Ryou let him half-stumble, half-carry him down the short hall and into the bedroom, and lay him out on the bed.  And Ryou let him have what Bakura could have taken over a month ago.  He just buried his face in the pillow in an attempt to smother his grunts and shallow moans.

Later that night, Bakura lay sprawled on top of his back and growled under his breath when Ryou tried to squirm out from underneath.  It was hard to fall asleep with the thief's heavy weight pressing him down into the mattress, and the arm that Bakura had wrapped possessively around his stomach pushed uncomfortably against his ribs, but Ryou was so tired that after a while he just passed out despite the ache.

And by the time Yuugi and the others returned to Domino High, he'd adjusted to that as well.


	2. Possessionem Adulescentis

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. No money is being made by this fanfic.

Aftermath, from the flip side of the coin.  
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The teenager still dried off in the shower.

Bakura couldn't tell if it was because of modesty or embarrassment, but he disliked both, so it didn't matter.  It had been over a month and a half now since he'd begun his task to own his landlord, and nearly two weeks that he'd had him in his bed, but Ryou continued to dry off in the shower.  It irritated him, somewhat.

It wasn't as if that were the only thing the teenager had continued doing--there was still homework, still cooking, still spending time with those fading friends of his, and still the rent Ryou demanded.  He found all those things, save the necessary cooking, to be a nuisance, but he left the teenager to them.  The rent was actually beneficial to them both--it gave him time to plan without any worry that Ryou would overhear.

After his landlord had made it clear that he had no use for people encased in wooden dolls, they had come to an agreement: once a week he would cut off all mental connection to the teenager and let him run.  Literally.  As soon as he freed him, Ryou headed to the small park a dozen blocks from his apartment and jogged along the track until he was tired enough to come back home.  Bakura didn't see the point of this--he would have used that free time in better ways--but it pleased his landlord.

Though, he **had** considered ending that agreement when, the week after that debacle known as Battle City took place, Ryou ran until his legs physically collapsed underneath him.  The teenager had then locked himself in his soul room with a sort of bitter relish and left him to drag their exhausted body back to the apartment, his legs shaking with each step.  He'd been extremely tempted to meet the teenager's lashing out with a move of his own, but he managed not to act rashly.  Instead, he came to a decision.

He'd let the matter go and continued with their deal, amused when the next week he felt Ryou's surprise right before he cut off their link.  The teenager hadn't expected to go unpunished.

Which he wouldn't, of course--but Bakura had found that subtler methods worked best on his landlord.  Forcing the teenager to quit running would result in more fighting and more violence on Ryou's part against him; but if he drained Ryou of the energy and will to go out, ah, that would be a different matter....

It was that very day that he began the slow process of building a separate, solid body for himself, created out of shadow magic and strengthened by the power of the Ring and the Eye.

It had taken time, yes, and time was not exactly a commodity that he had in excess, since he had to execute his plans before the Pharaoh worked up the will to leave Yuugi behind and seek his memories and his final death, but some things had to be handled slowly.  And his landlord was one of those things.  The last month and a half had been a careful game of watching the teenager's reactions and checking himself when he seemed to have moved too quickly.  Ryou was flexible--he could and would adjust to whatever situation he was placed in remarkably well, even something as drastic as what the thief planned--but only if he were built up to it in small pieces and given enough time to accept things.  Overwhelming him all at once would have been a very stupid move indeed, one that he would not have been able to reverse, and Bakura the King of Thieves made risky moves but never ones that he could not come back from.

And besides, the waiting caused it to be all the more enjoyable to hear that soft pained sound Ryou had made the first time he moved inside him.

Bakura let the smirk linger on his face for just a moment before sending it away.  He absently brought up a leg to rest on the counter, the other still dangling over the edge, and noted that behind the glass the murky figure of Ryou paused briefly as he did.

_Skittish tonight, aren't you?_ he thought to himself.

Not that it was surprising.  The towels that Ryou typically dried off with were sitting in a small heap on the counter next to him, where Bakura had tossed them after he'd pulled them off of the stall once Ryou started the water.

The fact that the boy still dried off in the shower irritated him, somewhat, so he'd decided to do something about it.

That was probably the reason Ryou was taking a much longer shower than usual.  It was a pointless effort--Bakura could wait, though he would be a little bored if Ryou decided to stay in until the water turned cold again.  Patience was not only a virtue; it was one of the most necessary skills of a predator.

Then, abruptly, the white noise in the bathroom ended as Ryou cut off the shower.  Bakura blinked and focused his gaze on the glass door.

A few more seconds passed by quietly, with only the faint sound of water dripping to hit the tile of the shower floor, but finally the teenager pushed open the door and started to walk to the counter.  Bakura grabbed one of the towels and stood up, and when Ryou halted reflexively at the action, he draped it over his landlord's shoulders and began to dry him off.

In the top of his vision Bakura could see the teenager watching him with confusion in the mirror, but he kept his expression blank and didn't look at him, focusing instead on his work.  Once the shoulders and neck were as dry as they would get with Ryou's hair still dripping water onto them, he let the towel slip down and began to rub the teenager's back, before reaching around to dry his chest as well, gentling his touch slightly.  At that, Ryou shut his eyes and clenched his hands into fists.

Lightening his touch even more, Bakura brought the towel down to dry off his landlord's stomach, and he felt Ryou tremble before tensing his muscles to keep himself still.  A smirk flickered across the thief's face, but he soon returned to his detached façade.

He pulled the towel away, flipped it to the opposite side and took a step back, reading Ryou's surprise in the way his body relaxed slightly.  Then he knelt and pushed the teenager's legs further apart.  Ryou openly flinched at that, but Bakura ignored it and just began drying off one of his legs.

Ryou clenched his fists tighter, and the thief's eyes narrowed as he noted the whiteness of his knuckles--Ryou was probably a step away from breaking the skin.  He briefly debated prying open the teenager's hands, but he chose not to and just began drying off his other leg.  Bakura usually let him get away with these little rebellions--it helped keep his landlord blind to just how much power he had over him.  He'd half expected Ryou to realize it after hearing what had happened to Malik during Battle City, but he never seemed to have made the connection: Malik had been taken over completely due to his Sennen Item, and by nothing more than his own hatred--it would not be very hard for Bakura to do the same.  It would be easy, in fact.  He had done it to the few other people who had had the misfortune to possess the Sennen Ring over the past three thousand years without happening to have a soul matching his that would have inspired one or two charitable feelings from him when their bodies wound up in a life or death situation.

But permanently sealing Ryou away in his soul room would cause the teenager to go insane.  And Bakura had a...problem with going that far, this time.  After all, he would get bored if he had to play at being his landlord incessantly.  He had no use for most of the requirements of this modern world--in his original life, if he hadn't been stealing, he'd been building up his strength and his shadow powers.  And if he hadn't been doing that, he'd been sleeping, eating, or traveling.  And if he hadn't been doing those, he'd been killing someone.  A simple existence.

And there was the fact that he had an interest in the teenager beyond Ryou's use as his host.

Bakura straightened up and rubbed the stray trails of water that had fallen from Ryou's hair onto his back, leaning forward slightly to lick away a drop clinging to the teenager's earlobe.  Ryou shivered again, so faint that he almost didn't feel it against his palm with the towel in the way, and it took more effort than Bakura wanted to admit to keep his expression blank.

He tossed the damp towel onto the counter and leaned further over to pick up the second one, holding a hand lazily against Ryou's side to keep his balance.  The teenager clenched his fists even tighter at that, a hint of anger and frustrated sadness beginning to show on his face, so Bakura dropped the towel over his head and let Ryou dry his own hair in order to keep him from hurting himself.  Ryou immediately pulled the towel down enough that his face was hidden and started to turn away; but Bakura still had a hand resting above his hipbone, and he tightened it just a fraction at the teenager's movement.  Ryou's hands clenched around the terrycloth, but he stayed in place.

He didn't particularly mind Ryou's little rebellions, so long as they stayed little.  When the teenager went to extreme lengths to wreck his plans, **that** pissed him off; but in the end he still preferred that if Ryou did not work with him, he fought against him.  Either option was better than complete subservience, though he would rather have had an ally.  But still, Ryou wore nearly the same face as he did--and if a landlord who looked like himself acted passively and submissively to everything that happened to him, Bakura would have loathed him completely and locked him away to certain insanity without a second thought.

But there was no reason to tell Ryou that it was only his periodic outbursts that had made the thief keep him around so long.  That would not be beneficial to his plans.

Ryou was doing a shoddy job of drying his hair, due to the fact that he was using most of the towel to hide his face, and Bakura finally let the smirk play across his mouth.  After another moment he reached up and pulled the towel out of Ryou's hands, tossing it onto the floor.

Ryou hesitated and stared at the counter, starting to bring his arms back down.  He reached up and caught the teenager's wrists, holding them over Ryou's head for a moment before pulling them back behind his own head.  Bakura slid his hands up Ryou's wrists and along the backs of his hands, idly tracing a pattern over the skin as he pressed Ryou's fingers over each other.  A moment later his landlord did what he wanted and intertwined his fingers, hands now cupping the back of Bakura's neck, leaving him completely open.  Bakura let his one of his arms drop back down at that, the other sliding around Ryou's waist to rest on his stomach.

He traced the faint outlines of muscles along his landlord's torso, his fingertips barely brushing the skin.  The game was won, yes, but there were still a few more loose ends to take care of--he still had to move with a gentleness he didn't much care for; but there would be time for roughness later.  If he decided to have a later.

He felt the muscles of Ryou's stomach clench underneath his fingers, and Bakura's smirk widened.

It had been surprisingly easy to win.

Once he'd decided what he was going to do, he'd begun looking for the best way to go about it without risking the pharaoh catching on or Ryou going so far as to tell anyone.  And when Yuugi and his court had announced their trip to America, and Ryou turned it down from a combination of money and schoolwork issues, he could not have asked for a better opening.  At first he'd gambled on the idea that, if he moved in while the others were away, Ryou would still be too humiliated about how powerless he had been during Battle City to mention anything when they returned, until things had gone far enough that he would prefer to keep quiet rather than admit what he had let the thief get away with.  But then Yuugi and the others continued to be gone, the four days growing to a week and a half, and then the news of Kaiba's newest tournament had come in, and then the week and a half grew to three weeks and then a month, leaving Ryou more alone than he had ever been since he'd moved to Domino.  No phone calls, no letters, one postcard with a few paragraphs from Anzu, mostly about what Yuugi was doing, hastily signed by everyone.

It had been _surprisingly_ easy....

Bakura might have pitied the teenager, really--but it had fit his plan.  Ryou no longer physically lashed out against him anymore, and the screaming rants were easy to ignore.  And if the teenager refused to be ignored, then nowadays it wasn't very hard to shut him up....

Bakura brushed his fingers across Ryou's lower abdomen, his smirk curling up one side as he watched the reaction he'd gotten earlier from drying off his landlord continue to stir.  With his free hand, he cupped Ryou's chin and brought it up so that the teenager was forced to stop looking at the counter.  He caught Ryou's eyes from their reflection in the mirror, studying their expression: the anger, hatred, lust, shame, all partially hidden beneath that half-lidded, half-unfocused gaze.  Bakura managed to wipe his smirk away a moment later, and tilted his head down to press a kiss to the side of Ryou's throat, feeling the teenager's fingers curl in his hair as he did.

He brushed his hand across Ryou's abdomen once again, and then Ryou arched his spine, pressing up against the palm and back against him.  Bakura let his hand slip down to where Ryou wanted it to be, and the soft moan the teenager made caused the thief's eyes to close for a long second.  A moment later Ryou caught hold of Bakura's shirt and began trying to pull it over his head, arms still behind him.

He left the shirt in the bathroom, but the remainder of his clothes wound up tossed onto the bedroom carpet.

It was a weakness, he knew, and one that he should have gotten rid of the moment he acknowledged it; but he **did** like the way Ryou's pale blue eyes would darken while staring up at him, and the choked groan that the teenager made when he came.  It was those things that made him consider keeping his landlord around even after he'd killed the pharaoh and otherwise fulfilled his goals.  Spilling the darkness into the streets of Domino City and the world would make it difficult for someone like Ryou to survive--for **anyone** to survive, really, _The__ whole point of doing it_..., he thought to himself--and looking out for the teenager would be a hassle he didn't want....But it might be worth it.

Long after he was certain that Ryou had fallen asleep, Bakura braced himself up on an elbow and studied his landlord.  Ryou had twisted over slightly onto his side, pulling his pillow down and wrapping his arms around it.

Bakura brushed his landlord's sweaty bangs from his eyes, letting his fingers linger over his temple.  Even if he didn't keep the teenager, he would still tell him what he had enjoyed, just to see what the expression in Ryou's eyes would be right before he pushed the knife into his heart and twisted.  Bakura ran his thumb lightly over Ryou's lower lip, imagining what sounds the teenager would make as his knees collapsed and he sank to the ground, the knife grating against his rib as it slid out.

Ryou stirred slightly and tried to bury his head in his arms, so Bakura pulled his hand away.  He pressed his lips against the corner of Ryou's mouth for a brief second, then pulled away and returned to the Ring, not willing to overexert his crafted body.

~~

He knew he'd won completely the day he told Ryou to start building his game.

He'd been more distracted than he liked lately--the news of the God cards had started to make its way through the gaming community, so he'd been using the small amount of the Sennen Eye's power that he could access without a homemade surgery to keep track of the thoughts of people around Yuugi, since he didn't want his game to be over before it even started--but he owned enough of his landlord by now that Ryou hadn't used his absence to seek for help.

Once he'd finished outlining his needs, Ryou had just stared at him from across the kitchen table with a faintly overwhelmed look, as he tried to digest the images and blueprints that Bakura had pushed into his mind.  Finally, his eyes focused and he'd given Bakura a cold look.

"Do you really think I'm going to do this?" he asked flatly.  "You're planning to kill him, aren't you?"

Bakura only watched him.  "Getting his memories back is what will kill the pharaoh.  I'm only going to help him."

The look on Ryou's face was entertaining.  "You would never 'help' anyone," he said bitterly.  "Not unless there was something in it for you."

"Maybe there is."  Before Ryou could say anything, he continued.  "Three thousand years is a long time to live, landlord.  Have you ever thought that **I** might be tired of this existence?"

The kitchen was quiet as Ryou studied him, carefully.  Bakura kept his face blank.

"...no," Ryou said finally.  "You would never get tired of living.  You'd kill everything else before you accepted death yourself."

A grin had twisted across Bakura's face at that, and he burst out laughing.  "Very perceptive," he said by way of a compliment, once he'd calmed down a moment later.  "But that doesn't change the fact that I want this game made immediately."

"No!" Ryou yelled, somewhere between exasperated and badly shaken.  "**No**!  They're my **friends**!  I'm **not** going to help you **hurt** them!"

"Yes you will," he replied calmly.  "Because if you won't do it, I'll take control and build it myself.  Either way, your hands are going to make it, landlord.  I'm just giving you a chance to be in control."

Ryou stared at him for another long minute.  Bakura stared back, eyes emotionless.

"...bastard," Ryou hissed, sinking into one of the chairs before burying his head in his hands.  Bakura made a note of the insult for the future, but did nothing about it for the present and simply took the other seat.

He'd been debating what illness excuse would get him the longest break from school while being communicable enough to keep the others from visiting--flu, pneumonia, or measles...perhaps something else, he'd have to look--when Ryou said quietly, "How am I supposed to ask to use the museum for this?  I haven't talked to Father in three months."

Bakura blinked.  It took him a second to realize what that statement meant, but when he did, only a tiny smirk played across his lips.

"And how am I supposed to get the Monster World table in there without the guards stopping me?  I'd have to--I **can't** rebuild it, this is too big," Ryou murmured, twisting strands of his hair through his fingers absently.  His words were muffled, since his face was still covered.  "I'd need more sections to increase the width, and I'd have to tear all the old terrain down to make this....It'll need new materials, paints...so much stuff....I don't **have** this kind of money.  This is insane.  It can't be done."

Bakura only folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.  "Figure out what you'll need and go to that hobby shop to see what it will cost.  I'll get the money."

Ryou flinched at that.  A moment later he pushed his bangs out of his face, and when he saw Bakura's smirk, his defeated expression turned to anger.  "I hate you."

Bakura's smile disappeared.  He unfolded his arms and leaned across the table, catching Ryou's chin in one hand and giving him contemplating look.  "You say that so often, landlord, how could I not know?"

Ryou watched him for a few moments, and the thief studied the expression in his eyes, comparing it to all the others with a sort of bemused interest.  Finally Ryou tried to pull back, but Bakura's fingers only tightened at the movement.  Ryou scowled and wrenched his chin out of the thief's grasp, shoving his chair away and starting to leave the kitchen.

Bakura pushed his chair away as well, grabbing Ryou's arm even as the teenager tried to move out of his reach and yanking him back.  He wrapped his free arm across Ryou's chest, holding the teenager against him, and Ryou slammed and ground his heel into Bakura's foot, and that began the fight.

Bakura had enjoyed it.  Ryou had a decent left hook, all things considered.  With training....

He still won.  Ryou needed to knock him unconscious at the least or kill him at the most, but he only needed to pin the teenager to the floor.  After that, changing the direction of things was easy.

"I hate you," Ryou had whispered, so quiet as to almost be to himself, right before his breath caught and changed to a strangled, pleased moan.

His landlord was prone to sounds or noises that didn't constitute actual words, so when Ryou mumbled something between his harsh pants, Bakura only realized it was a fragmented sentence a bit later.  He rubbed his thumb across the soft skin of the underside of Ryou's knee, having to push the teenager's leg slightly off his shoulder to do so, and asked, "What is it, landlord?"

"...more," Ryou managed to say.  "Not...enough.  Fast...please...."

Bakura stilled at that, ignoring Ryou's involuntary whine at the sudden pause, and stared down at him.  _He didn't_....

Ryou closed his eyes and tilted his face away, pressing his cheek against the linoleum.  "Please," he repeated, almost inaudible.

A shiver of pleasure ran down his spine at that.  He let go of his grip on one of Ryou's legs and cupped a hand beneath the teenager's back and around his shoulder, twisting the already-bunched-up fabric of Ryou's shirt in his fingers and bracing himself, before complying.

Ryou's loud, wordless cry and the feel of the teenager as he arched up against him were almost as pleasing as the words had been.

Ryou had never once asked for anything from him, not with words--it was his landlord's last permanent rebellion, that last shred of denial or dignity that he'd kept to himself.  And he'd never **once** begged.

That was the last loose end to be cut away.  The game was done; and Bakura was the complete victor.

As if it could have been any other way.

By the time they were both sated, the thief had marks on his arm and back and thighs from where Ryou had gouged his fingers in, and the teenager had a bite mark that was already beginning to bruise at the juncture of his neck and collar bone, low enough that an ordinary shirt would cover most of it.

Bakura had been content to keep lying where he was, but after a few minutes Ryou murmured, "...hurts."  When the thief didn't bother to move, he started trying to shift his leg out of the position it was pushed into by Bakura's weight; and finally with an annoyed noise Bakura shrugged and shoved Ryou's legs off his shoulders.  Ryou let them fall down to the ground almost disinterestedly, ignoring the awkward way they were still splayed around Bakura's form and the fact that his jeans had in spite of everything continued to (barely) hang off his left foot.  His cheek was still pressed against the floor, and he was staring vacantly at something across the room.

Bakura, face hidden by the hair that had fallen across it and the curve of Ryou's shoulder, studied his landlord's expression guardedly.  After a long wait where Ryou did nothing more than blink, Bakura pushed himself up enough to press his lips to the mark at Ryou's neck, gently licking away the traces of blood in the torn skin and keeping his gaze on the teenager.  Ryou closed his eyes at the action, but said nothing.

Several seconds later, Bakura's eyes narrowed when he heard Ryou's breath hitch.  He didn't betray his awareness by stopping his actions, though, and continued to listen.

When the faint strain in Ryou's breathing was unmistakable, Bakura pushed himself onto his knees, unceremoniously yanking his jeans back up and not bothering to button or zip them.  He tugged Ryou's jeans off his foot and pulled the teenager into a sitting position, and then stood before reaching down and picking Ryou up.  Ryou started to say something, but then he just closed his mouth and wrapped his arms loosely around Bakura's shoulders, wincing at the spark of pain from his collar bone.

Bakura carried the teenager to the bathroom and set him down inside, before pulling Ryou's shirt over his head and giving him a push towards the shower.  Ryou stepped in with a confused look, hesitating for a few moments before pushing the door closed.

When he heard the water start, Bakura abandoned his makeshift body and moved to his soul room, where the power of the Eye worked with slightly more strength, to return to watching Yuugi.

Having won, he had the decency to allow his landlord to cry in private.


	3. Possessionem Animae Aureae

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belonged to Kazuki Takahashi.

Ryou is smiling--just barely--in his panel in the last issue of YGO. I found that interesting.

I wanted to call this chapter "property of the Ring," but I couldn't find the Latin for "ring" (granted, I didn't look all that hard). So instead, since the Millennium Ring seems to be pretty sentient at times, I called it "golden soul" and left it at that. Hence the title.  
------------

`

Ryou supposed he was a fool for thinking that it would be over with the RPG.  Out of all of them, he was the one who knew best, who should have realized first that Bakura just wouldn't **die** that easily.

And it wasn't like he hadn't originally thought that the thief would come back--he'd spent the entire first week after the art museum waiting to see that haze out of the corner of his eye, waiting to hear Bakura's cool voice inside his head or out of it...just waiting.  Because it couldn't have been finished that quickly, could it?

But nothing happened, and after the first week Ryou was lulled into thinking that maybe the RPG had been Bakura's last chance gamble, and when it failed that was finally going to be the end of it.  After all, there was nothing more to be done now--his friends had won the Shadow game fair and square, Yuugi had all the Items, and in two more days they would reach the Valley of the Kings and the whole bloody mess would be **over**, and he wouldn't have to wake up in any more places wondering where he was and how he'd gotten there and whether he should start running in case the police were on their way.  Ryou had pushed the quiet lingering thoughts out of his mind and just enjoyed the trip to Egypt.

Right up to the night in Cairo, when he woke to see Bakura sitting at the edge of his sleeping bag.

He'd jerked upright without even thinking that it might rouse the others.  He did manage to keep from screaming in frustration, though, clenching his hands and yelling in his mind instead.  _You're supposed to be **dead**!_

Bakura might have smirked--he was so faint that even when Ryou focused his gaze he seemed to waver in and out of view.  The teenager was only certain that he was sitting there because he just _knew_ it.  Not while you aren't, landlord.

Ryou clenched his fists tighter and glared at him, unable to turn the emotions running through his mind into any kind of coherent statement.  But he didn't need to put them into a reply--Bakura could already tell what he was thinking, because the thief was back in his mind, in that corner that he didn't realize he was grateful to have empty until it was filled again, and Ryou almost **was** tempted to scream, to wake everyone up so the other Yuugi could finally finish the thief off or to have them tell him it was just a nightmare, it didn't really matter which, and Bakura overheard **that**, too, because he moved suddenly and clamped his hand over Ryou's mouth.

The gesture didn't mean much, since Bakura was scarcely able to make himself transparent, but Ryou could still feel his fingers like cool air across his skin, and it caused him to still.

There was a moment of silence between them, though there hadn't been any sound in the first place, and then Ryou pulled back enough to dislodge Bakura's hand.

**_Why_**_?_ he demanded brokenly.  _Why aren't you **gone**?!_

I told you, landlord.  You're still here, so I still have a room to come back to.  Bakura was closer now, and Ryou could see the smirk this time.  Besides, you knew this would happen; you just lied to yourself again.  You would have missed me if I were gone.

Ryou flinched.  _I hate you_, he replied.  _I want to see you dead_.

I know that, Bakura replied, tonelessly and with no expression that Ryou could make out on his face.  But you would miss me.

Ryou didn't have a reply to that.

After several seconds where the teenager said nothing, Bakura reached out and touched his fingers to Ryou's cheek, gently pushing his head to the left.  Ryou clenched his fists even tighter and closed his eyes.

There had been a unanimous (as unanimous as it could get with Honda clamping a hand over Jounouchi's mouth to keep him from protesting) decision to give Anzu the one bed in the room, and the guys took the floor.  Honda was sleeping next to him, Otogi was stretched out at the foot of the bed, and Jounouchi and Yuugi--stupid, _stupid, **trusting**_ Yuugi--were sleeping on the left.  All Ryou had to do was make his way to the other side without tripping over Otogi or Jounouchi, and he could reach the small bag that Yuugi was keeping the Sennen Items in.

Ryou shook his head vehemently, knocking Bakura's hand to the side as he did--anyone else, and the translucent hand would have simply gone through them--as he hissed, "No.  Damn you.  No."  _They've given me more second chances than I deserve.  I'm not going to betray him again_.

"Urg," Honda muttered, rubbing his eyes with a loose fist.  Ryou froze.

Honda blinked a few times, then gave him a half-conscious, curious look.  "Bakura?  You okay?"

Ryou nodded a little too quickly, then paused and calmed down.  He gave Honda a half smile.  "Yeah.  I just--had a bad dream."

"'S th' heat," Honda replied with sleeper's logic, and Ryou nodded in lieu of trying to understand the connection.  "Wha 's it about?"

Ryou shrugged a shoulder.  "Oh, I can't remember anymore.  Just stuff."

"Ah, 'kay."  Honda threw his arm back over his head.  "Night."

"Night...," Ryou replied, knowing that if he kept sitting Honda would probably come around for real, and he suddenly couldn't stand the thought of the others waking up and seeing Bakura there.  He didn't want to know how they would look at him for it.  So he yanked the edge of the sleeping bag up over his shoulders despite the heat, and curled up on his side, muscles tense.

Bakura might have chuckled.  Or he might have sighed.  Or it might have been a fly buzzing in the room.  He brushed his fingers over Ryou's cheek again, and at that the teenager flinched again and buried his head in his arms.

Ryou bit his lip as he felt Bakura trace the ridges of his spine along his neck, and he tensed even more when the thief stroked his back briefly before sliding his arm underneath Ryou's chest, just below his ribs.  The fabric of the sleeping bag meant nothing, after all.  Bakura stretched out on top of him, one leg tangled between Ryou's and using the teenager's shoulder blade as a pillow.

Ryou bit his lip harder, then stopped when he realized he was going to cut it.  He pressed his forehead against his arms, squeezing his eyes shut when they started to sting.

How many times...how many times had he fallen asleep like this?  It had to be less than it felt like, but it felt like a million or some other exaggerated number.  The only difference was that his ribs didn't hurt and he could breathe easier.

_Why won't you leave me **alone**?_ he asked quietly.

Bakura didn't reply, only adjusting his resting place on Ryou's back by a fraction.

Ryou fell asleep faster than he wanted to admit, and the next morning Bakura had disappeared before Yuugi woke up.  Ryou told himself the reason the fabric of his sleeping bag was damp was because he must have drooled in his sleep last night.  
`  
  
Bakura was there again the second night.

They'd made it down from Cairo to Luxor, and all that was left to do was cross the Nile and visit the Valley of the Kings.  They would have gone that afternoon, but the plane had come in late and they couldn't get tickets for anything earlier than tomorrow morning. But that was okay, because Yuugi--the only person other than the Ishtars who officially knew where the pharaoh's tomb was in the changed, modern geography--said that they would have to walk for a while before they found it, anyway.  Ryou wasn't really looking forward to trekking through the stifling valley in the middle of the day, and he knew that they were going to have to climb up the nearby cliffs for part of the way as well, because the other Yuugi hadn't been physically buried in the place that his tomb was, but he wanted to see this through.  He had to.

He had to.

The second time Ryou didn't even bother to pull the sleeping bag up when he saw Bakura, who was standing by the window staring out at the sprawl of the city below them.  Ryou didn't want to understand what the expression on the thief's face was, so he closed his eyes and rolled away from the wall, onto his back.

A while later he felt Bakura lie down next to him, the thief's head resting on his stomach.  _Go away_, Ryou said.  _It's too hot for you to be here_.

Egypt nights are cold, Bakura answered.

_Not anymore_, Ryou replied, hoping that it would hurt.

Bakura didn't show any signs if it had, and finally Ryou sighed and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, knowing he was going to be half-dead from this lack of sleep tomorrow.  _Why can't you just accept that you **lost**?_ he criticized.  _You lost then, and you lost now.  Just **stop** already.  You had your chance_.

He could barely feel the way Bakura's fingers tightened against his waist.  I will not die until he pays for my village.

Ryou blinked, and then his eyes widened slightly.  He couldn't bring himself to look away from the ceiling and towards the thief.

He knew what had happened in the game; Yuugi and the others had told him all what they had done, and then the other Yuugi--_Atemu_, Ryou reminded himself, he was so used to just calling him the other Yuugi--had told them everything **he** had done, and Ryou also had fragments of information that had drifted over while he was building, so he knew more of the story than all of them put together.

And like everyone else, he'd assumed that Bakura's obsession with Kuru Eruna had just been an excuse--a justification for all the death and destruction he'd brought.  Ryou couldn't imagine the thief ever caring about something that much.  After all, he'd never shown respect or regard for anything else, not even Ryou, except when it would get what he wanted.

But Ryou hadn't thought that maybe the thief could only care about one thing, and that took all that he had to give.

He would have suspected that Bakura was trying to play with his mind, trying to push him into deciding to take back the Ring before it was too late; but Ryou knew that he wasn't, in the same way he had known that Bakura had come back even before he woke up and saw him.  He was telling the truth, as twisted a truth as it was.

It was the first real thing Bakura had ever said to him.

It would be the last one, too, if Ryou could keep himself together until tomorrow morning.

..._there's no point in getting revenge for something that happened three thousand years ago_, he said softly, a minute of silence later.  _It doesn't mean anything_.

It means everything, landlord, Bakura replied.  I made my deal to get justice.

Ryou closed his eyes again.  ..._I won't help you_.

Bakura didn't move.  No one would.  That's why I had to do it myself.

Ryou didn't have a reply to that, and Bakura said nothing more.

They stayed still for a long time, but Ryou couldn't fall asleep.  Finally, his hand twitched, and a moment later he lifted it and touched Bakura's hair, stroking it for a breath before tangling his fingers in the strands.  He could barely feel them--it was like touching a ghost.

Ryou knew he was never really going to be free of the thief, death or not.

More time dragged by, and then Ryou felt Bakura press a kiss to his stomach, barely stronger than air.  He shivered at that and thought about pulling his hand away.  
`  
  
The next morning Ryou rubbed the dried tracks on his cheek and told himself he really needed to stop drooling in his sleep--it had to look undignified.


	4. Possessionem Memoriarum

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

This story was never meant to be more than a one-shot like usual, which is why it's ending in a different place than where it began. Que sera sera.

Apep is one of the varying names of the Egyptian deity who battled with Amon Ra every night when Ra sank from the sky and descended to the underworld (i.e., the sun set). And every night, Ra won the battle and returned triumphantly (the sun rose).

I don't know if this chapter is an agreement or a rebuttal to Sailor Comet's fic "Satisfaction," but it certainly was inspired by it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~

`

"Of course, victims can suffer when they see themselves and their stories reduced to so many illustrations of the same rule, for from their perspective what happened to them is absolutely unique, and they may feel that the perpetrators of crimes against them are not punished severely enough. But that is the price of justice, and it is no accident that justice is not administered by the victims."  
  
"Children are notoriously merciless, and as for adolescents, they tend to discover justice well before mercy."  
  
-- Facing the Extreme, Tsvetan Todorov

`

The desert had covered the temple entrance completely, leaving no trace of it behind.  The wind was already sweeping the sand flat before anyone spoke.

It was Isis who broke the quiet, when she turned and commented that Kaiba had arrived just a little too late--as he had always seemed to do.  Kaiba had predictably taken offense to that, and everyone was so busy being caught up in the two's verbal sparring and in their own conversations, conversations that were just a little too loud, just a little too forced, that it wasn't until they were already out of the Valley and had passed the ticket booth that they realized Ryou was missing.

After the first, instinctive panic--something had gone wrong, Bakura **hadn't** died like they'd thought--everyone calmed down and began trying to decide who should go in to find him.  Most of Yuugi and his friends were getting strapped for money, considering how much it had cost for all the flying and the prices even of a hostel, so Isis was about to buy a new ticket when Rishid noticed that Malik was gone as well.  The man knew that he had been beside him while they were leaving, because he'd overheard one of Malik's remarks about Kaiba in his sister's defense, so they decided that the blond must have gotten tired of listening to everyone debate and had gone to find Ryou himself.

No one felt much better at that thought, but they didn't say it out loud.  Isis mentioned evenly that after fifteen minutes she would go in as well.

`

Malik found Ryou in a different spot than where he'd expected him, but it was still the same area.  What, three thousand years ago, might have been cliffs tall enough to build houses against were now small rises of rock; and even though no more than an hour had passed Malik couldn't determine exactly where the entrance to the temple had been.  The expanse was wholly sand and stone--there was nothing to be seen unless you turned around and looked at the cliffs of the Valley.

Malik had a feeling Ryou saw something anyway.

The other teenager had his back to him, so Malik stopped a few feet away and said, "Hey.  We've already made it out--everyone was worried that you'd gotten lost."

Ryou didn't answer for a long moment, and he didn't turn around.  Malik began to feel annoyed.  "**Hey**, Bakura--"

"Did you see the people?" Ryou interrupted, voice calm.  "The ones that were waiting for Atemu, behind those doors?"

Malik blinked.  A second later his eyes narrowed, and he thought before answering.  "Yes.  What about it?"

"I recognized all of them," Ryou said.  "I saw the cards when I was building the...but, I knew all of them."  He paused, and then added: "Akunadin was there."

Yuugi and the others had told the Ishtars what they had learned inside the Memory World, but Malik hadn't listened to much of it.  He didn't want to know why his family had suffered for so long--he just wanted to forget.  "Who?" he asked unenthusiastically, wondering if he could just grab Ryou's arm and drag him back.

"He's the one that made the Millennium Items," Ryou said, "because he couldn't think of any other way to protect Egypt.  He's the one who killed everybody in Kuru Eruna.  It's strange; he never hated him for that nearly as much as he hated the pharaoh...."  Ryou's voice had grown more distant.

Malik shifted.  "We need to get back.  Your friends are worried about you."

"He was standing there, with the rest of them.  Akunadin, I mean," Ryou clarified.  "I think he was forgiven, despite everything he did.  I guess it makes sense...he had reasons, even if they weren't good ones, and he really loved Seto."

Malik closed his eyes.  "Fine.  So he was forgiven.  What does it matter?" he asked.  "Everything's finally over now.  Let's **go** already--it's too hot for you.  You're going to burn."

"Because someone had to pay for all this," Ryou said quietly.  Malik blinked and took a step closer, trying to hear him.  Ryou shook his head, still looking at something Malik couldn't see.  "It just...doesn't seem right that it was him."

Ryou had been using a lot of 'he's and 'him's in the last few sentences, but Malik had a pretty good idea who he meant by this last one.  "He had his chance," the blond said.  "...The...the same as I had my chance.  Everyone who fought the pharaoh had their chances.  And King Atemu won fair and square."

Ryou tilted his head down and said something under his breath.  Malik took another step forward, and he noticed a faint smile was growing on Ryou's face.

"'It's not fair!'" Ryou said suddenly; then, in a different pitch: "'You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is.'"

Malik stared at him.  "What?"

"It's from a movie," Ryou explained.  "Labyrinth."

"I've never seen it," Malik said flatly.

Ryou made an absent 'hm' noise in response.  After another minute, Malik shifted on his feet again and snorted in irritation, but he stopped short of actually reaching out and touching the other teenager.

"It was, though.  Fair."  Ryou glanced across the area one last time before finally turning and looking at Malik.  "It was completely fair.  One village got massacred, and then Egypt was safe, so that years later he could destroy part of the main city.  The death tolls were probably even."

A trace of his earlier smile hadn't disappeared yet, and Malik, who'd possessed his Item the shortest length of them all save Isis, had a sudden, intense urge to have it back.  It was so acute that his fingers reflexively curled around an absent handle.  Ryou didn't see it.

The other teenager watched Malik for another moment, the distant look still in his eyes, before adding, "But it wasn't right.  No one could call it right."

Malik shook his head once, rapidly, and forced his hand straight again.  "Dammit....Bakura, it's time to go.  Come **on** already."

Ryou looked at him, noticing how the blond tried to put up a blank expression and keep it in place, before glancing away again.  Then he turned fully around and stared at Malik.  The smile was gone, and his eyes were no longer distant; they almost looked sad.  "I don't think he won fairly."

Before Malik could say anything, Ryou continued.  "He just won because he was too powerful **not** to win.  You can't fight your gods."

Malik blinked, a dark expression beginning to creep onto his face, but Ryou was still speaking softly.

"It should have been obvious from the beginning, really...a mortal can never defeat the son of Ra.  Even **he** knew that...that's why he was always talking about the darkness.  He had to make a deal with it to even try."  Ryou closed his eyes, and his tone could almost be called rueful.  "You think he would have remembered that Amon Ra always defeated Apep...but...."

Ryou opened his eyes and looked away again, to a place where three thousand years ago a house and an alley and a little boy wide-eyed with terror had stood.  

"...I told you it was pointless," Ryou said quietly, his voice a mixture of sadness and vicious satisfaction.

Then he turned and walked away.

The ghosts that no one else could see watched him go.

Malik noticed that his fingers had curled up again, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.  He watched Ryou for a long time, until the other teenager was far enough away that the heat began to make him hazy. Then he caught up.

Isis was halfway through the Valley when they met her.

When the three of them returned to the group, Yuugi and the others immediately asked Ryou what had happened.  Malik watched as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly and said, "Oh, I stopped to look at the scenery for a moment, and...I guess I took longer than I thought, because when I looked back everyone was gone.  I tried to find the right path, but I think I wound up going in circles."

Honda shook his head and draped an arm over his shoulders.  "Geez, we were worried.  You're lucky you didn't roast out there."

Ryou smiled.  "I know!"  He looked over at Malik.  "Thanks for coming to get me."

Malik didn't reply.

Malik didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon or evening, either, but the only people who noticed were his family.


	5. Sed Semper Possessionem Regis

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. That Yugioh: the Next Generation picture from book 38 probably also belongs to him, and I have no idea who owns Yugioh R. Nor do I care; I'm never going to read it. The quote belongs to William Faulkner.

In Japan, women who get an abortion typically perform a ceremony for the infant/fetus at a temple of Jizo (the bodhisattva who watches over those who have no one else to watch over them).

The title means "But always the property of the king."

It only _seems_ like The Neverending Story, I promise.  
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_The past is not dead.  It isn't even past._

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It took Ryou years to return.

Decades, actually.  He'd grown up, graduated high school a year behind everyone else, graduated college, found a job for himself as a jeweler, married, buried his father after a tragic cave-in at the man's archeological dig, lost touch with his mother, and kept up with his old high school friends. 

He didn't love his wife, but she was a good friend, and he adored the two children she'd given him.  He was even pretty sure that their older son was his.  Their younger daughter he wasn't so certain about--there was no one in his family with green eyes--but he didn't really care; she was an adorable little girl, and Ryou had a feeling that her life would be better off if she didn't share his blood.

And, those nights when Ryou started crying in his sleep, his wife only shook him awake and held him, without asking any questions.  He was very grateful for that.

That was why Ryou felt bad for lying to her, but it wasn't as though he could tell her the truth of why he'd decided to dip into their savings and take off for Egypt alone.  Instead, he'd made up a story about wanting to visit one of the places that he'd once traveled to with his father.  Coming so soon after Yuugi's funeral, it sounded reasonable.  He'd also felt bad about leaving Anzu so abruptly, but she had Mai and Jounouchi staying with her at the moment, and Honda had promised to leave work early on Saturday and come back to Domino again to see her.  Ryou planned to be home by then, and thus he assumed that things would be okay.  He doubted they would miss him in such a short time.

So he booked a business class flight to Luxor Airport and tried not to think about why he was doing it.

Because when he **did** think about it, all that came to mind was reasons why he shouldn't go.  They didn't have the money to waste, with Keita in junior high and Reiko about to graduate from elementary; he had a deadline coming up on a piece for one of the shop's more important customers; and he would have preferred to be near Anzu at this time, at least until they found the criminal.  And it wasn't as if he owed Bakura anything.  Ryou had been glad to leave his ghost to linger in the desert where he should have died so long ago.  He had been **glad**.

...He had to have been.

...The thief deserved it, anyway.

But all the same, Ryou went back.

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He'd thought of looking up the Ishtars, to tell them as well; but he doubted that they would still be in Luxor after all this time.  Considering how desperately Malik had wanted to destroy his past, Ryou wouldn't have been surprised to find that they had left Upper Egypt altogether.  They might have moved to Cairo, or Alexandria--that kind of drastic change would be the most fitting.

They might have broken apart and built their own lives by now, but Ryou doubted that.  They could have all died from poor immune systems, after living underground so long and coming from such a small gene pool.  They probably didn't want to be bothered by a memory from the past.

Ryou wasn't sure how he would have gone about finding them, anyway.  And he didn't need them to guide him back to the buried temple.

It was too easy to find the place again.  Almost thirty years had passed, but Ryou found and followed the path as easily as if it had been that same afternoon.  The only difference was that it was easier to slip past the security and leave the Valley, since there was only him this time.

Once Ryou reached the outskirts of Kuru Eruna, he paused, a little overwhelmed at the sudden change from those empty, tourist-ridden tombs for long dead pharaohs to the expanse of sand densely packed with ghosts over three thousand years old.

The ghosts didn't recognize him at first, but once they did, they stopped trying to attack and scattered to somewhere out of his sight.  It didn't take them long to call Bakura out to see him.

Bakura had died with the idea of a body, not melted down like the rest of his village, so he was considerably more human-shaped than they.  After his death he had retreated to the form he'd had in the ancient past.  Ryou could only stare for a few moments--it was like looking at a tainted photograph from his youth.

Bakura silently studied him as well, seeing in Ryou an idea of the man he might have grown into, if he hadn't been killed so young.

Ryou was the one who finally spoke, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking down at the ground before he did.  "Yuugi's dead."

There was a...'ripple,' that was the only word that would describe it...in the air, and in his peripheral vision Ryou could see the other ghosts gathering closer again.  Bakura didn't move.

"He inherited that game store from his grandfather," Ryou went on.  "Several days ago, there was a break in, and...he was shot.  He died in the hospital.  They haven't found the guy who did it yet, but...you remember how easy it is for a criminal to hide in Domino."  Ryou paused.  "He never married, though.  He didn't even date, not after Anzu went to New York.  So...."

There was only the sound of the desert around him.  As long as Ryou kept his eyes focused on the ground, he could pretend he was just talking to himself.

He looked up.  "I know he wasn't **your** Game King, but he still was the Game King.  And his line is ended.  So...."  Ryou studied Bakura's features, but found only a blank façade.  "Is that good enough?"

Bakura made no reply, and didn't move.  The other ghosts seemed to shimmer in place, not willing to move, but unable to stay still.  Ryou found it unnerving to be stared at by so many dead souls.

Finally, he took a step back and looked down at the ground again.  "I...."  He shook his head with a ruefully amused smile and turned around.  "I thought you should know," Ryou finished, as he began to walk away.

...Thank you, landlord.

Ryou stilled and pressed a hand to his head.  He turned around, but there was no one there.

Ryou blinked and stared at the empty expanse of sand for a few minutes.  But eventually the heat and the sting of the sand fleas made him turn and begin his way back to Domino.

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On the trip back home Ryou couldn't sleep, even though he'd deliberately picked a red-eye flight in order to be back in Domino by the afternoon.  Every time he started to drift off, an image of the emptied Kuru Eruna returned to his mind.

 Ryou had been genuinely surprised to see them gone.  After all, he'd lied.

Yuugi **had** died, and he **had** chosen to remain in Domino and keep up with the Turtle Game Shop, and Anzu **had** gone on to New York, and they **had** never married.  But that last fact didn't actually mean anything. 

Somehow, the two of them had managed to make their long-distance relationship work; and from what Bakura had heard, the only reason they hadn't married was because they had decided to wait until the inherent ageism in ballet forced Anzu out of her troupe and the two of them would be able to settle down normally.

And the fact that they had never married certainly didn't mean that they hadn't had a close or physical relationship.

After all, Ryou had been there when Anzu had the abortion.

Her troupe had had a brief break after performing in Hokkaido, and she had come down to Domino for a long weekend.  Everyone had known about that--all of them had managed to arrive in town on Saturday night and they'd had a party to celebrate.

But they hadn't known when she'd come down three and a half weeks later.  Yuugi didn't call anyone until after he and Anzu had talked and come to the decision.

It hadn't been easy on either of them.  But Anzu wasn't going to give up her hard-earned career so soon, and Yuugi wouldn't dream of asking her to do so.  And everyone else had supported her decision, too....Outwardly, at least.  Honda had told Ryou over drinks that he didn't like the thought of killing someone who hadn't had a chance to see the world, let alone do anything to deserve death; but once he'd realized what he'd said he had sworn Ryou to secrecy.  Ryou had no intention of hurting Anzu either, and kept his promise.

Because, really, it hadn't been easy on either of them.  Mai had gone into the temple of Jizo with Anzu when she went to perform the ceremony, while everyone else waited outside with Yuugi; and the two of them didn't come out for a long time.  And once they did, Anzu's eyes were still red from crying.

Ryou had felt horrible for her and Yuugi both--because no matter how much Yuugi tried to hide it, Ryou could tell that he wanted to have a family with the woman he'd been in love with all his life.  After all, the rest of their old group had found others: Mai had finally gotten sick of waiting and proposed to Jounouchi, Ryou was married, Honda and Otogi were...he wasn't certain **what** to call their relationship, Shizuka was currently involved with someone her age who was still a little too similar to Jounouchi, and even Kaiba--if he counted at all, which Ryou supposed he did--had married the daughter of another CEO and tripled his power base in Domino and the surrounding prefectures.  Only Yuugi was still alone.  Ryou was sure that the pain of losing that chance at a family had run very, very deep.

It was probably as deep as the pain that Anzu had felt when she decided to keep their next child and end her career as a ballerina.

Ryou hadn't planned his trip to Egypt with the intent to lie to Bakura and the inhabitants of Kuru Eruna--he told himself that he didn't care that much.  He just hadn't known that Anzu was pregnant again until he'd gotten a call from Honda the morning he was planning to leave.  Anzu hadn't even known she was pregnant until then.  And by that point, there was no good reason Ryou would have been able to give his wife to explain canceling his trip.

That was what Ryou told himself.  Because he **had** hated Bakura.  And he didn't care whether he rested in peace or not.

...But still...they had suffered enough.  All of them.  Himself, Bakura, Yuugi, Malik....There was no point to it anymore.  So it was necessary to end it.

Ryou told himself a lot of conflicting things.  It was deliberate--it made it harder to guess when he was lying to himself and when he wasn't.  It was an old, old trick left over from his childhood.

The interior of the plane was dim, with only a few reading lights scattered throughout the cabin.  He wasn't near the engines, the man at the end of his row had fallen asleep long ago, there was no one in the middle seat, and Ryou had pulled the window lid shut as soon as he'd settled in.  There was no reason for him not to get some sleep as well, save for that persistent image of the empty Kuru Eruna.

And that shouldn't bother him, anyway.  Ryou couldn't see how it mattered; if their souls had been put to rest, then why should he care if it hadn't been through the truth?  At least they were gone.  They were free.

Ryou briefly wondered if all exorcisms were really this easy, and the temple and church priests just had an elaborate scam set up.  Then he chided himself for his cynical thoughts and told himself it was time to stop dwelling in memories.

The vengeful spirits were free, their manifestation of revenge Bakura was free, and his tool Ryou was free as well.  It was terrible that Yuugi had had to die for such a long curse to end, but....

...It had ended.

_So isn't it time to try living for real?_ Ryou asked himself.

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Soon afterward, he fell asleep.

When the plane landed Ryou woke up to find that he'd been crying again, much to his embarrassment.  But this time, the tears were for something past rather than something present.


End file.
